


Reunion

by unscriptedemily



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Injury, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4222227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unscriptedemily/pseuds/unscriptedemily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been four years since Roy Mustang last saw Edward Elric. And yet here he is, on his doorstep in the middle of the night, covered in blood.<br/>By this point, Roy isn't even surprised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> SO THIS IS LATE!!!!!  
> it's my entry for Royed Week, day 6: colours or expressions or **injuries**.  
>  (of course I went for the angsty one. _Of course_.  
>  Anyway, I'm posting it a day late but that's because I have So. Much. Work. It's unreal, and I hate it. :((  
> BUUUUT, hope you guys enjoy this one!! :) (thank you to everyone who commented/ left kudos on my other royed week fics- y'all are great) 
> 
> ..............also I suck at titles. fuck titles. fuck 'em.

 

 

Four years.  
One thousand four hundred and sixty four days since he last saw Edward Elric. Thirty five thousand and sixty four hours since those golden eyes met his own. Two million, one hundred and three thousand, eight hundred and forty minutes since he set eyes (or rather, _eye_ , singular, now) on that streak of wheat-blonde hair. One hundred and twenty six million, two hundred and thirty thousand, four hundred seconds since he last saw those cheekbones, that nose, those eyebrows. Roughly twenty five million, two hundred and ninety seven, nine hundred and twenty breaths since he last spoke to him- in person, anyway. In the four years (four _fucking_ years, Edward) Roy spent in the frozen wilderness of the north, he spoke to the memory of Ed quite frequently.

Not that Roy’s been keeping count, or anything.

Still, after four years _,_ you’d expect Roy to be a little shocked when Edward Elric knocked on his door in the middle of the night, dressed in unfamiliar clothes and bleeding fairly profusely all over his doormat.

He opens the door a little wider, and Ed steps over the threshold. Roy sees his eyes flicker to his patch. He’s impressed to note that Ed doesn’t stare, or make any kind of comment. _Looks like he’s learned the basics of subtlety after all._

Roy closes the door behind him, shutting out the cold.

“Hi.” Ed says.

“Hello,” Roy says, “it’s been a while.”

Ed- laughs. Wryly, bitterly, lifting the corner of his mouth into a lopsided smile.

“Sure has,” he agrees, and _god_ , Roy’s memory has not done him justice. “You got any food?”

 

***

 

Ed is sitting on his kitchen counter, shirtless, telling Roy about the other world- about ‘Germany’ and ‘London’- while Roy cleans his wound, a rather impressive laceration just below his ribs. He wishes he could say that the situation was surreal, but in truth of fact, it feels almost…natural. Which is probably not a very good thing.

“-and, I mean, it was okay, for a while. But then some…real bad shit happened. Really, really bad. And, like, I really fucking missed y- everyone. Al, Winry, even _you,_ you bastard. And I guess…everything went…just a little bit fucking pear sha- _ow_ -,”

“Sorry,” says Roy, dabbing at the jagged wound in Ed’s side with the cotton pad a little more gently, “go on.”

“Right, so, everything went to _shit_ , and there was a war on and…”

And?

Ed trails off, and his breath whispers through his lips as if he’s no longer consciously remembering to let it out. He is silent, still as stone under Roy’s ministrations and Roy looks up, carefully, and-

Oh, no.

Ed’s face has the same expression he’s seen on countless soldiers- the same face he’s seen in the mirror. _There was a war on._  
Shell-shock, they called it. Empty stare, dead eyes, faraway and in his head, reliving what must be utter, unadulterated hell.  
And it’s not _fair;_ hasn’t Ed seen _enough_ already? Hasn’t he done _enough_?

“Ed,” he says quietly, calmly, and the golden irises flicker. “You’re having a flashback. Focus on me, if you can. You’re safe. You’re not there anymore.”

Ed takes a deep, shuddering breath, and squeezes his eyes tightly shut. “Talk,” he grits out, “please.”

The ghost of the only person Roy’s ever truly loved appearing on his doorstep without warning after four years of nothingness didn’t shock him, but _that_ did. ‘Please’ is not a word that he has ever heard Edward utter before.

Talk. About what? His mind is blank; come on Roy, you’re supposed to be _good_ at talking…

“It…It’s been four years,” he begins, trying to think of what to say and this is a good starting point, isn’t it? After all, Ed’s been in a different dimension. Roy might as well catch him up to what’s gone on in his absence. “Four years since you…left. Alphonse is living with Winry, now, in Resembool. I think they’re getting married, soon, actually; they’ll be overjoyed to hear you’re back. In fact, we should probably call them soon…”

Ed nods once, hands clenched white-knuckled on the kitchen counter, eyes still squeezed tight shut. Roy swallows.

“They have a cat,” he says, and his voice doesn’t shake. “Although, that was the last time I checked; by now there are probably a significant number more. Alphonse is well, and misses you very much. He’s just finished his degree; the youngest person to graduate with a first-class honours. After you disappeared, he went to Xing to research ways to get you back. I don’t know what he found there, exactly, but he came back after two years, enrolled in Central University, and took the alchemy course by storm.”

Ed’s breaths are fast, not quite gasping. His teeth are clenched as tightly as his hands. _Talk._

Almost unconsciously, Roy’s fingers go to the eyepatch, light on the coarse material. “After the battle, I was in hospital for quite a while. I lost my eye, as I’m fairly sure you’ve noticed by now. When I was discharged, I resigned my rank and…well, Alphonse called it ‘moping’. I moped, Edward, I really did. I moved to a remote outpost in the north, and there I stayed. For three years.”

“Why’d you come back?” asks Ed through gritted teeth, tilting his chin up towards the ceiling, and Roy smiles, though Ed can’t see him.

“Your brother, actually. Alphonse came to visit me last year, and told me to- I quote- ‘get my sorry ass back to Central and stop trying to drown yourself in your own misery, Colonel, people _need_ you.’” Roy huffs out a laugh, remembering. “I was reluctant, at first, but Alphonse has a gift for making innocuous statements sound vaguely threatening. So I came back. I was reinstated and…and that’s it, really.”

Ed blows out a long breath, drops his head forwards again, His bang slip over his face; his hair is longer than before and now they reach midway down his neck. He has more scars, too, scattered across his chest, the taut skin of his stomach, his tanned arms. Some of them are small; Roy probably wouldn’t have noticed them if he wasn’t accustomed to picking out the slightest details of a person. After all, noticing things is an art that has saved his life many times. Some of the scars are silvery-white, some faded pink. And some of them…  
Some of them bear evidence to trauma Roy _can_ imagine, but doesn’t want to. Some of them are grim reminders that the four years that Edward Elric spent in another world were probably not especially happy ones. 

“Ed…” he says, but he doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. The words are there, on the tip of tongue, but he swallows them back with effort. No amount of _I love you_ s are going to make this situation any better.

Ed unclenches his hands from the counter, scrubbing them over his face and looking up again, flicking his bangs back. His cheekbones are more prominent, now. There is no light in the depths of his eyes.

“Sorry.” He says, gruffly, looking away, and Roy shakes his head. Something else that’s new. Four years ago, Ed would’ve died rather than let an apology past his lips.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Your wound- it’s going to need stitches. Do you want me to..?”

Ed raises an eyebrow, then looks down. He seems unconcerned about the gaping wound in his side, albeit vaguely interested; he shrugs, and Roy reaches over to rummage for the suturing thread and needle in the first aid kit on the table.

“Thanks,” says Ed after a while, staring over the top of Roy’s head at- presumably- nothing.

“For what?” asks Roy, instead of _no, thank_ you _for coming back and restoring some semblance of joy in my life_.

Ed makes a faintly derisive noise. “This, obviously. Fixin’ me up and whatever. And also…for earlier.”

Roy wets his lips, staring intently at Ed’s abdomen (which is the opposite of unpleasant; Ed’s always had rather well-defined muscles, and these abs do _not_ disappoint) and focuses on pulling the thread just tight enough. “Don’t worry about it. As for earlier, well. I’ve had…experience. In that area. So there’s no need to thank me.”

Ishbal will never leave him; that, he is sure of. He still wakes up screaming, some nights; still hesitates before snapping his fingers, although he’s getting better at it. Relearning his alchemy as part of himself, rather than as an inherently destructive weapon, has been difficult, but he’s getting there.  
Thanks to Alphonse, he has remembered his goals, his purpose. In order to repent for the crimes he committed, he must gain power. In order to gain power, he must rise through the ranks. _I will never let Ishbal happen again_.

“Oh,” says Ed, quietly. “Of course. I didn’t think…but yeah. You’ve been there, too.”

The cotton pads are little balls of blood-splattered cloud on the counter, and Roy snips the thread with tiny silver scissors, standing back. Ed probes at the wound lightly with the same vague interest he showed before. Roy’s chest is tight with an indescribable sadness that Ed has suffered so much that he no longer flinches at the feeling of a needle tugging its way through his skin.

“Yes,” says Roy, picking up the roll of bandage from the side and estimating how much he’ll need, “I have.”

Ed nods, shifting on the countertop. Roy unwinds the bandage, holding it out. “Shall I…?”

“Sure.” There is something strange in Ed’s voice, like he’s holding something back. Roy takes great care not to meet his eyes as he reaches round to wrap the bandage securely around him, tying off the end; the vastness of Ed’s skin is so _close_ …

“Roy,” says Ed, and his voice is tight and the sound of his name rolling off of Ed’s tongue is enough to make Roy look up and- draw in a breath.

Ed’s face is centimetres from his; even sitting on the counter, he is only a few inches above Roy. His eyes burn into Roy’s and his lips part, tantalizingly close.

“Do you love me?”

The question takes Roy off guard; he’d thought he’d hidden it so well-

“Edward…”

The aureate eyes narrow. “Do you love me?” he asks again, and in the faint pink staining his cheeks Roy sees the young man he used to be. The young man he first fell in love with. He closes his eye.

“Yes.” The word forces its way out of him, unbidden. It hangs between them like s tone; he can’t take it back, worse, he doesn’t _want_ to. He loves him. He loves him. He loves him.

“Good,” says Ed, and Roy’s breath catches. “‘Cause it’s been four fuckin _years_ , Roy, and- and I don’t think I can go much longer without kissing you.”

Roy opens his eyes; Ed’s cheeks are flushed, but he is staring intently at Roy with the same laser-intensity of four years ago, determination sparking in his eyes- this is Ed ; after all this time, _yes_ he’s different now but some things just can’t change, and Edward Elric’s unparalleled determination is one of them.

Roy kisses him, and his mouth tastes like copper and Ed.

His lips are warm, chapped, both soft and rough and Ed kisses expertly; he’s done this before. Roy hopes against hope that whoever Ed was kissing in the other world, they were in love with him, too. That they didn’t use him, that they loved him with every cell in their body, that they made him happy. Roy can’t bear to think of the alternatives.

After a miute that feels like a year, he draws back. Ed pants for breath; he’s shaking and for a second Roy thinks he did something wrong, but then he realises he’s laughing.

“Damn, Roy,” he says between breaths, “Can’t fuckin’ believe I had to get _stabbed_ to be able to do that.”

So it _was_ a stab wound.

“I can’t quite believe that, either,” Roy replies, tracing the shape of the wound over the bandage with careful fingertips. “How _did_ you get stabbed?”

“Was tryin’ to open the gate,” Ed says, and looks away. “I don’t. Wanna talk about that.”

Oh. Oh, god. The gate. Of course, the _gate_.

“Okay,” he says softly, and- _god_ he’s waited so long to do this- brushes his fingers through Ed’s hair. “That’s okay, Ed.”

Ed looks back at him, and very slowly, lifts his arms to drape them around Roy’s neck. “You look sexy with that eyepatch, by the way,” he says, conversationally. Roy- almost- falters.

“Do I? I’ve found it to be rather off-putting to people, actually.” It’s almost he same thing as saying _people in the streets turn away from me in disgust; in meetings they either outright stare or desperately refuse to look at it; I can’t talk to anyone without seeing the pity in their gaze_ , but not quite.

Ed makes an aggressive noise of disgust. “Fuckin’ dumbasses don’t know what they’re talkin’ about,” he says, “They’re so fucking preoccupied with “how did you get that?” that they can’t see past their own fuckin’ ignorance. Makes me sick.”

And Ed does have a lot of scars- from the automail, from where- Alphonse has told him- he was stabbed by Envy four years ago; it is a mass of scar tissue about the size of one of Roy’s hands on his abdomen. Roy wonders if the people who taught Ed how to kiss cared. If they told Ed the scars were just another part of him, a part worthy of worship…or if they were as repulsed as people were for Roy.

“Anyway,” says Ed, shaking back his hair, “you look hot. Like a rugged pirate or something.” He yawns before Roy can think of a reply, and glances towards the phone.

“Hey…” he says, and suddenly he seems…shy. Tentative. Nervous. “D’you think…I mean, after I call Al, can I…stay here? ‘Cause like, if he’s in Resembool, he won’t be able t’ get here ‘till tomorrow and I don’t-,”

“Of course,” says Roy, and he touches the side of Ed’s face with his hand. “Ed. I’m not going to turn you out onto the streets, especially not _now_. Of course you can stay.”

Ed turns his face into Roy’s hand. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to,” he mumbles, and Roy laughs.

“Ed, I just told you I _love_ you. I don’t- I don’t use that word lightly. Ever. I’ve felt this way about you for…well, for just over four years. Do you really think I’d ask you to _leave_?”

One of Ed’s hands comes up, carefully, and moves Roy’s hand from his face. He stares at it, seeming lost in thought, playing with Roy’s fingers, watching the muscles move beneath his skin. “I mean…you saw…that. Earlier. When I…” He chews on his lip.

The flashback. Roy nods. “yes.”

“Yeah. So…it’s kind of…” he looks up, his hold on Roy’s hand tightening for a second. “You probably have some idea of me in your head like I’m still strong, right?” HE says, and the look in his eyes is part anger- both at himself and Roy- and part haunted. “I’m not. Not anymore. And I didn’t think you would still. Want me.”

Roy…breathes, very slowly.

“Ed,” he says, and takes Ed’s hand again. He stiffens momentarily, but doesn’t pull away. “Ed. Do you love _me_?”

The question makes Ed look up, confusion flashing in his eyes. “What? Yes. Of course I do.”

“The what makes you think the situation is any different on my side? I told you, before, that I’ve had experience in this area, yes? I went to war, Ed, and I did…terrible, awful, unforgivable things. I _saw_ terrible, awful, unforgivable things. That affects me now, just as your experiences are affecting you.” He intertwines his fingers carefully with Ed’s, holds them tight.  
“And if I know one thing for certain, it’s that this- shit, Ed, whatever this is- it doesn’t make us somehow _lesser_. IT doesn’t make us weak. It just makes us human.”

He falls silent, staring at their clasped hands; the clock on the wall is ticking _very_ loudly and it must be nearly three a.m. by now…

“Okay,” says Ed. Roy looks up.

“Okay?”

Ed cracks a grin. “Yeah, dumbass. Okay.”

“Alright, then,” Roy nods. “let’s phone your brother, shall we?”

He moves to pick up the phone, but Ed stops him, tugging on his hand.

“Wait,” he says, and genuine fear flickers over his face. “Wait, is he- I mean, does he still- does he…does he want me back?”

Roy- stares.

Only Ed could ask that question as if it’s remotely viable that Al would _not_ want his brother back. His guilt is fathomless, an ocean’s worth of self-hatred, and that tears Roy’s heart a little more every time he remembers it.

“Ed,” he begins, slowly, “Alphonse has been tirelessly searching for a way to get you back since the day you first disappeared. When they found him, he was covered in blood- _your_ blood- and screaming your name. He’s been working himself half to death; he hasn’t been sleeping, he barely even eats. Alphonse _loves_ you, Ed, and he would give anything- _anything-_ to have you back right now. He and Winry, Rose, everyone at the office…we’ve spent the past four years hoping against hope that a miracle would occur and you would return. So, yes, he wants you back. We all do.”

Ed swallows. Roy lifts the phone receiver, places it in Ed’s hand, and dials the number.

It rings, for what feels like an eternity, and Ed lifts it to his ear, tentative. A few more tense, nervous breaths, and Roy can just about make out Al’s tired voice on the other end saying, “…Colonel?”

Ed breathes in. Breathes out.

“Colonel?” Worry seeps into Al’s voice. Ed closes his eyes. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Roy watches the tiny movement of his hands shaking.

Tick, tock. The clock on the wall is the only thing that exists, so loud in this heavy silence.  
With a deep breath, Ed opens his eyes.

“No, Al. It- It’s me.”

“ **…** _Brother_?”


End file.
